Strength
by Sardonic Kender Smile
Summary: Eliwood is tired of war--too tired to keep going. Obviously it'll take a dancer to inspire him to keep moving forward...and to show him the true meaning of strenth.


_A/N: Yes, yes, another random one-shot, written when I have other, grander stories to start updating on a more regular basis. (Don't worry, I'm totally getting there.) ANYWAYS—this time I bring you another dash of Eliwood and Ninian. Nothing huge and epic, just a small glimpse into their relationship, struggles, and—centrally—Ninian's character. I'm off exploring human nature and characterization again, as I tend to do when I get bored…_

_Also? It's rated T for blood, not romance…I was trying to keep away from the usual uber-fluff of this pairing. (Me? Keep away from fluff? I highly doubt that's possible…) __Well. I hope ya enjoy._

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_**Strength**_

_Saint Elimine, how I _loathe _this senseless violence!_

The bandit rushed Eliwood, rusty axe raised high, voice hurling forth a hoarse battle cry…and Eliwood had to stop _himself _from yelling something back. The only thing that made him draw his rapier in the first place was that Ninian and Florina were fighting somewhere behind him, and he could not allow another threat to come their way.

Swing,

_Miss—_

Stab!

The young lord had run the bandit through with his rapier. His opponent gurgled out a gasp of pain as Eliwood firmly wrenched his weapon back out again.

_Please be dead, please be dead, please say that I have killed you swiftly, that you did not have to suffer—_

The bandit crumpled to the ground before Eliwood, writhing in the grass, choking on his own blood as it trickled from his mouth and gushed from his abdomen.

Eliwood cringed, instantly torn. His first instinct was to help the man, to call over Serra…but why should he, how_ could_ he help a man who had just tried to kill him, who would have murdered his companions? The bandit tried to scream, pressing his wound with his hands as if that could keep his life within him, but all that happened was that a bubble of blood formed between his lips, bursting and sending dark droplets onto Eliwood's boots.

Now the lord knew what he had to do, the inevitable cruelty that was the closest the dying bandit would ever get to mercy. Biting his lip against the will to cry out, Eliwood lifted his rapier up and closed his eyes…

_No, you must look! If you miss, you shall only prolong his agony!_

The young noble forced his eyes back open, and—before he could frighten himself out of it—plunged his rapier straight through the bandit's heart. He could feel the metal beneath his hand ripping through flesh and piercing through muscle…blood suddenly flowed in torrents from the wounded man's chest, and Eliwood desperately sought to keep a grip on his roiling stomach. The bandit's eyes flew open, yet instantly after that they clouded with a chillingly blank wisdom, and he finally lay still—_dead_.

Eliwood began to shake, unconsciously clutching his own abdomen and blinking back burning tears. That was his third kill today, and an unknown unit of death in the grand tally of lives he had taken since his journey had begun…and besides all that, it was another woman without their husband, another child without their father, another man without their friend. He, Eliwood, had just personally added immeasurable grief to an uncountable number of people.

"I can't take it!" he cried aloud. A surge of rage swept through him, and he hurled his bloody rapier to the ground. "I can't do this any more!"

He began to pace through the grass, green now stained to a dark crimson, until he spotted a tree stump and furiously flung himself onto it. He sat there for a long while, head bent, fists clenched on his knees to fight back his anger—which would do no one any good. Finally that stressful emotion gave way to sorrow, and Eliwood buried his face in his hands.

"I just can't stand this any longer," he miserably whispered to no one in particular. He was already wearing thin—he had risen before dawn that morning, unable to fall back into a restless sleep, and he hadn't had an appetite in weeks. "I'm so tired, but I have so far to go…what shall I do?"

"Lord Eliwood?" a voice suddenly asked, high and breathy and utterly angelic. "Are you…are you alright?"

Eliwood raised his head to find Ninian standing before him, peering down at him with worried eyes. He had been so distracted that he hadn't even heard her approach.

"Ah," he said quickly, "Ninian, yes, I'm well enough."

Her brows knit together only slightly, but those ruby eyes were suddenly flooded with doubt and concern. "Pardon my impudence, but…you do not seem well, my lord. A-are you hurt?"

"Me?" Eliwood asked incredulously, finding the question darkly comical as he gazed at the slain bandit on the ground a few yards away. "Haha, no—_I'm _perfectly fine!"

Ninian pressed her lips together, as if she wanted to say something but could not find the willpower. Eliwood instantly felt guilty for making her worry, for not being the fearless leader he was supposed to be.

_Be strong, be strong, be strong!_

He couldn't even find the strength to rise…but Eliwood swallowed his selfish problems and looked Ninian over.

"Please forgive my negligence," he told her softly. "Are _you _alright, Ninian?"

"Of course, my lord," she responded, sounding almost surprised at the question, flushing slightly. "I have not had a lot of trouble come my way."

"How can you say that?" Eliwood asked her, his deep blue eyes searching. "You have had to face more hardship than anyone should ever have to. You have been captured, you have been held prisoner by Nergal, you suffered the loss of your very memories for a while…and even now, even today, you are surrounded by the pain and horror of the battlefield."

"Oh, my problems can hardly compare to those of others," Ninian insisted sincerely, clasping her hands earnestly before her. "Why, Lady Lyn must fit into a society that is prejudiced against her history and her father…Florina is constantly exposed to men, to her greatest fear, and must deal with it every minute of every day…a-and Nils, his childhood was cut short. He has shared every problem of mine, but he finds fewer comforts…he tries very hard to protect me, which puts another burden upon his shoulders, and he can hardly remember our mother…"

Ninian stopped suddenly and flushed scarlet, as if she had said too much. Eliwood smiled sadly.

"Forgive me for prying," he murmured, "You do not have to answer if you do not wish to…but…do you miss your mother?"

"Very much," Ninian answered delicately, lovingly twisting the ring on her finger. Her bright red eyes flashed up and met Eliwood's own calm gaze. "And…not that I wish to intrude, but…do you miss your father?"

"Very much," Eliwood echoed in a whisper. He lowered his eyes to his lap for a moment…until he heard her make a strange sound—a stifled sob—and his attention flew back to her face. "Ninian?"

She was fighting back sudden tears, trembling slightly as she stood before him. "I…I am very sorry…about your father. He suffered, and for my sake…"

"It isn't your fault," Eliwood softly assured her. "He _wanted _to help you…and believe me, I feel exactly the same way."

Ninian smiled through her tears. "You…are very kind, Lord Eliwood."

Eliwood glanced once more at the fallen bandit and sighed heavily, running a hand through his mop of bright red hair. "I wish that were so."

"Oh, b-but it _is _so!" Ninian insisted. She followed his gaze to the dead man. "You always follow what your heart says is right, my lord…there is great honor in that. You kill not because you want to, but because you must. You are our protector…so noble and powerful…"

She broke off again, now blushing so hard that she turned her face away in embarrassment—though Eliwood hardly noticed.

"Powerful?" he asked skeptically. "What power do I have? Ninian, I haven't even the strength to stand on my own two feet right now. I am exhausted…so utterly unable to continue, to keep on leading as I should…"

"It is understandable that you are tired," Ninian comforted him, timidly taking his hand. "Anyone in your position would be."

Eliwood gripped her hand in return. "I wish to continue on my path," he murmured to her, "but I do not know how to break this fatigue."

"…Do you know what I do when I need energy?" Ninian shyly asked after a moment, sliding her hand out of his grip.

"What?" Eliwood answered, mildly curious.

Ninian bit her lip nervously before twirling around once, elegant and ethereal.

"I dance," she confided as her ice-blue skirts and hair floated gracefully back to their original positions, a small and curiously impish smile upon her lips.

"And does it help?" Eliwood asked, unable to keep from smiling back at her.

"Always, my lord." She began to move—really _move_, swaying to the pulse of the earth and the song of the sky and a rhythm that was entirely her own, her gauzy sash moving with her like an extra limb that made her complete. Eliwood was suddenly aware of every curve on her body, and of every nerve in his own. He was staring at her, and had to shake his head to snap himself out of it, his pulse now thrumming impatiently in his veins.

"How do you do that?" he asked, quickly rising from the tree stump.

"Do you…want me to show you, my lord?" Ninian's voice was hesitant, but she never paused in the complicated steps and whirls of her dance.

Eliwood held out his hands and grinned in reply. With a tiny but giddy laugh—the happiest sound he had ever heard from her—she took his hands and began to lead him through the steps of her ancient, sacred dance, twirling around and around…slowly at first, but picking up speed until they were spinning in wild circles and unspeakably dizzy.

"There!" Ninian gasped, releasing his hands before they both fell over.

Eliwood staggered slightly, laughing as he hadn't in weeks. His head reeled, but pleasantly so—the aching, throbbing fatigue that filled it before had fled. "Ninian, how wonderful! I feel as if I can accomplish anything!"

"Dancing is…good for the soul," Ninian voiced quietly, though she colored slightly at the praise.

Eliwood straightened abruptly as he was hit with a sudden revelation. He had realized something about her, right at that moment…he had finally come to grips with her enigmatic nature. He already knew that her eyes were always mournful, her smile was always melancholy, she hardly ever laughed. She was not a _happy _person…and yet, she never succumbed to despair or sorrow. She was determined. She would continue to push on tirelessly, fighting her way through whatever obstacles Fate presented her with. She overcame pain not with good cheer, so often false and so easily feigned…but with persistence and hope. Pure and undauntable hope.

That was true strength.

Eliwood felt his breath catch in his chest as he gazed at her, seeing her for the first time in this new light. Ninian looked startled at this sudden bond, at how his eyes were now locked so ardently upon her own.

"My…my lord--" she breathed, before he crossed the distance between them in one stride and pulled her into a fierce embrace.

"You are an amazing woman, Ninian," he murmured against her hair.

"Oh…oh, no…" she insisted shakily. "I-I'm nothing compared to you, my lord. I am weak…but you, Lord Eliwood, you're so very strong…"

Eliwood smiled widely, releasing her from the hug but taking her hand, so that he might keep her close as he rushed back into the fray.

"No, Ninian. I believe it is the other way around."

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_A/N: Hmm. I don't think I developed this as much as I wanted to, but whatever. I had to try to write it, to get that unbidden plot bunny attack out of my head…although—this time--there was far more than whim set behind this ficlet. Quite frankly, I was sick of Ninian constantly being portrayed as more of a pansy than Eliwood (which is very hard to do). When she began reminding me of Peach from the Mario games, I realized this had gone too far. I fear that I have written her a bit out of character—a tad bolder than usual, perhaps?—and yet I wanted so badly for a different side of her to be shown—one of courage and strength, one that could support others. After all, how could she inspire people to march again with just a dance if she didn't truly believe in what she was doing? There had to be some deeper conviction there…if that makes any sense at all…_

_Well, all in all, I hope I kept her essentially Ninian. And I hope I didn't make Eliwood too much of a weakling (poor guy…I really do torture him too much xD)._

_All opinions, thoughts, and criticisms are appreciated to an inexplicable degree!_


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